we've only just begun
by manhattan martini
Summary: Blue and Gold concoct a devious plan to ensure prom night goes without a hitch. Whether it does or not depends on who you ask. — AU, GreenBlue, GoldCrystal, others


**Rating:** Hard T  
**Pairings:** Green/Blue, Gold/Crystal, peripheral Red/Yellow, Ruby/Sapphire, and Silver/Jasmine.  
**Warnings: **Explicit language (cursing); mentions of underage weed smoking and underage drinking; Gold acting inappropriately towards girls; overall heteronormative atmosphere. Also, unbeta'd writing.

**A/N:** This high-school AU has been years in the making – I've started writing it at least three times that I remember, but I inevitably tossed it in the WIPs folder and forgot all about it, eventually finding it when my writing style (and overall growth as a human being) no longer matched the story at all.

TL;DR: I had a whole high-school AU planned out in my head, but I will never get around to writing it, so you can consider this fic to be an ending to that forever-unwritten story. Apologies to Emerald for the extremely short cameo, and to the all the junior holders who were not included in this fic. I sacrificed their inclusion in order to jam in more character development and cheesy, cheesy lines.

Honorable mention goes to **sbj**'s legendary fic _More Than Human_, for always inspiring me and making me realize that if a single person can write three hundred thousand words about high school AUs, then I can try to write at least ten for the Pokémon Big Bang. Shout-out to my fav Big Bang mod for being gracious about my continuously postponed deadline. I'm sorry I'm a mess.

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* * *

**PART ONE:  
****SETTING UP**

* * *

_MAY 17th (THURSDAY)_

* * *

Standing there in the middle of the gym, clipboard and pen in hand, Ruby really looks like a professional caterer. Gold doesn't know what's more disturbing: the fact that the kid hasn't left the gym since prom season started, or that he doesn't even stop for lunch break.

"Dude," Gold says, shoving his lighter back in his pocket, "you're gonna get an earful if you don't stop doing this shit."

Ruby scribbles something down, eyes narrowed behind his glasses, and only then turns to Gold.

"I thought you were trying to quit," Ruby replies, clicking the pen closed.

"What, like super-serious gal grilling my ass isn't enough, now I gotta take that from you, too? Jeez, man." Gold pulls his lighter back; no point pretending now. "Anyway—"

"If even an inch of me smells like, like _that_—"

Gold already knows how his diatribe goes, which should be alarming considering he only ever sees Ruby at school. He rolls his eyes, climbs up to the furthest bleacher, and opens his arms in a silent question.

"Ugh, fine, whatever," Ruby says, and goes back to his clipping board.

"It's not even your prom, man," Gold says, and lights one up. "I know you're all into parties and stuff, but isn't this kind of weird? Aren't you, like, a freshman?"

"I'm a sophomore," Ruby corrects, turning around to glare at the corners of the room. Mold gathers there like barnacles on a ship, dark and unmoving. "And secondly, it's the Fashion Club's last chance to put on a show."

"Huh."

"Yeah. So."

"The Witch got on your case?"

Ruby stiffens, then, and looks over his shoulder at Gold.

"Ms. Agatha did."

"Dude, she can't _actually_ hear you when she's not in the same room. You know that, right?" Cinders fall between the metal, lighter than snowflakes. Gold blows them away with a practiced puff. "Anyway, yeah. I heard about it from Crys. She's cracking down on the arts' clubs, right?"

"Basically," Ruby says, and it's tinged with a bitter thing. "The sports' clubs are safe, considering how much prestige they bring to the school—"

"You're welcome!" Gold offers his brightest smile; the one he puts on when he's standing on the podium's first place. It comes easy as ever. "Third-time billiards regional champion—"

"It's not about you, or your ridiculous sport that only old men in bars like to play," Ruby huffs, twice bitter now. "If that monster girl didn't keep on competing in every single sports' event there is, maybe— it – it doesn't matter, anyway. Whatever."

Kid's ears are red. Gold leans back and takes a drag, wondering why Sapphire complains about Ruby being so hard to read.

The heat of the joint almost burns his fingers, and he takes a cautious puff, then puts it out against the sole of his shoes.

"Gross," Ruby sniffs.

"So," Gold says, shoving the butt between his shoelaces for later disposal, "you gonna ask her, or what? Going stag?"

Ruby pretends to read something down on his clipboard instead of answering. Gold climbs down the bleachers and sticks the landing. Pinpricks run from his feet to his calves, and he shifts his weight, wincing.

"Look, man, not counting this one, you still got, like, two proms. As long as you don't fuckin' have a meltdown in the middle of the dance floor like last year—"

"We're not discussing this."

"—just 'cause Sapphire wasn't wearing a dress—"

"It wasn't about the dress, it was about how she showed up _covered in dirt _to a _formal dance_ and in _sneakers_—" Ruby starts, grit teeth and all.

Last year, Gold fell elbow-first in the punch bowl while trying to tip two whole bottles of vodka into it, and he was a goddamn hero. Like, sure, Agatha gave him a month of detention and he had to eat his fake ID before she caught him, but still.

He decides not to mention it right now, but the thought brings a smile to his face.

"Fine, whatever, man," Gold says, and puts away his lighter, checks his phone for the time. "I gotta go put something in me or I'm gonna pass out. You coming, or what?"

Ruby gives him a look, clipping board in his hand and disdain in his gaze. So yeah, predictably, Gold eats alone: just gets a cold ham 'n cheese sandwich and a grape soda from the vending machines, and goes and takes a nap behind the football fields.

He wakes up to the sight of beautifully curved legs and crossed arms, which has its highs and lows. Groaning, he rolls to his other side, and pretends not to have seen any appendages.

Crystal huffs, and grabs him by the elbow, trying to get him on his feet. He has to admit it's kind of endearing, considering she hasn't been able to pull him anywhere since their freshman year.

"Who told on me?" he asks, voice still thick with sleep.

"You skipped _again_, and let me tell you, Mr. Pryce was not happy—have you been _smoking_?" She sounds scandalized, like it hasn't happened fifteen times before. "Gold! At least don't do it on the school grounds! And I thought you were trying to quit!"

"Oh my god," Gold groans, and rolls away, bringing her with him.

Crystal's hand smacks him on the chest, which, _ow_, and then softer parts of her join that palm, which, _wow_.

"Hey, if you wanted a slice of Gold all you had to—"

Crystal gets back to her feet, dropping his arm like it's burnt her, and she's back to crossed arms and cold expression.

"You know," she says, eyes faraway, "sometimes, I don't know why I bother."

She does know. They both know. It's the same reason they still talk, even though they haven't been in the same classes since she got bumped to advanced placement and he started having detentions every other week. It's the same reason why he never asks anyone to prom, and maybe it's why she never goes.

One of these days, that reason isn't going to be enough. Crystal isn't better than he is, but she has clear ambitions and the drive to get them. That difference in rate puts miles between them.

He clears his throat and the air in a single movement, climbing up without help. When Crystal looks at the football field, he wipes at any drool that might be on his face, and then puts on his brightest smile.

"So. Heard you've been busy with the gym décor," he says, stepping closer.

Years of knowing her have taught him exactly the space she enjoys having between her and other people, and he always stands inside that border. It never fails to rattle her, though she's been getting better at pretending otherwise. Gold loves it to bits.

"Could it be? Could this be the year you actually go to prom, super-serious girl?"

A loaded question inside a mocking tone.

Crystal looks back at him, eyes wide and bright, and swallows. Gold finds himself doing the same, throat suddenly dry, and leans away against the brick wall.

In his head, he thinks of what to say if she asked: _is that an invitation?_

Maybe he wouldn't say anything. Maybe he'd laugh and nod his head, or maybe he'd scoff and offer a non-committal shrug. Maybe he really would say something, like: _would you like it to be, Crys? _And they would argue, and he'd get fed up and ask her what the color of her dress would be, and she would get it, because she _is_ a smart cookie, and she would go pink all over, and he's glad she's not taller than him anymore, because what if she wants to wear heels?

He'd love to see her in heels.

"I-I'm not sure," Crystal says, instead, and flattens a hand against her pristine shirt, like it's been ironed wrong. "I've been really busy with student council, and there's a physiotherapy seminar I've been looking into—"

"Yaaawn," Gold drawls, eyes rolling. He passes her by, relieved and disappointed in equal measures, and pretends not to hear her brisk steps behind him. "Come on, Crys, live a little. If not now, then when?"

"Isn't that what college is for?" she asks, falling beside him with a glare.

"For normal people, yeah, I guess. For _you_, though?" He snorts. "I can already see it. 'Library? Of _course, _all day, every day, finals are my life', for fuck's sakes—"

"Watch your language! Jeez, you are impossible," Crystal says, frowning, but her face is pink.

Gold smirks, inching close until their elbows brush together. That pink deepens, spreads.

"Y'a know," he begins, and the bell cuts in like a knife between his ribs. Which is good, he supposes, because he doesn't know what was going to come out of his mouth. Granted, he doesn't know what will come out of his mouth about sixty-percent of the time, but sometimes risk doesn't reward.

Crystal's back goes straight as an arrow as she checks her wristwatch, eyes wide, and he knows he's already been put into the back of her mind.

"Oh!" she says, and Gold nudges her forward before she can panic.

"Yeah, yeah." Her shirt is soft. "Get to it, before you get warned about – _gasp_ – tardiness."

"You really are impossible," she grumbles, already jogging towards the school building.

_Like you'd have it any other way,_ Gold thinks, watching her go, blue hair alight with the sun, until she's gone behind the doors and he's alone again.

* * *

_MAY 18th (FRIDAY)_

* * *

Fourteen days until prom, and she's got three different dresses neatly stashed inside plastic covers since December: one blue, one white, one black. Different heels for all three, of course, though she's willing to buy another pair just because she can.

The option of renting a limo was considered, then discarded, when she heard Green got his grandpa's old car in the summer. It's not the ideal, considering how ancient Professor Oak is and how that translates to his _old car_, but at least it's free, and it'll let her do what she wants without having to roll up a partition. Though that would be kind of fun, too.

"But," Red says, frowning in confusion, "I thought—"

Blue gives him a look. Red shuts his mouth, but Silver is immune to her womanly charms, and he picks up right where Red left off without even looking from his book.

"He's not going to prom, Blue. The sooner you get it in your head, the better."

Blue rolls her eyes, even sighs a little, and crosses her arms.

"That remains to be seen," she replies.

"Well, he's never actually gone, though," Red says, bolstered by Silver's presence. "What makes you think—"

"It's our last prom, Red! Our _last_! On my_ birthday!_ What kind of loser wouldn't?"

"Crystal," Silver says, turning a page.

"Emerald," Red says, tentative.

"Okay, yeah, those are – that's a good point. God, I can't believe I willingly hang out with them." She huffs, blowing strands of hair everywhere, and then leans back on her chair. "But _still_. Crystal doesn't go because there's, like, an orphanage in need of volunteers, or something, who cares. And Emerald is—"

"A misanthropic dweeb," Silver says.

"Emerald is _Emerald_," Blue finishes, though she kind of agrees with Silver. "The point is," she adds, leaning forward and waving with a hand, "Green doesn't – he _shouldn't_ – ugh, it's our last year, okay? This is, like, the only thing that's worth something in high school—"

"Hey," Red cuts in, frowning.

"Chill out, Basketball Case, we already know how much you care about your team," Blue replies, eyes narrowing. Red still looks upset. "This is about something _bigger_. It's about, I dunno, going on, and leaving our hometown behind, and isn't this, like, supposed to be a goodbye for all of us—"

Someone sighs behind her. She could recognize that sound anywhere.

"Why are you here?" Green asks, and Blue looks over her shoulder with a gorgeous smile, seamlessly progressing into another conversational subject.

"Green! What a coincidence!" She pretends not to see Red roll his eyes, or Silver glaring up at Green.

"You know this is where I come to study." Green sounds less excited than he should be, considering her wonderful self is sitting right in front of him.

"You and half the school," Silver mutters.

"Really?" Blue asks, batting her eyelashes. "Must've slipped my mind."

Green sighs and looks at Red. Blue looks at Red, too, a warning sign, and so he only shrugs apologetically.

"Sorry, man. Blaine's out sick and they didn't have a replacement, so they sent us home."

"And yet, you're not home," Green says, looking annoyed. But he still sits down next to Blue, reaching for his books. Their arms don't touch, but it's enough to have him in the same room, considering how hectic his schedule has been for the last month.

Two weeks until prom. It's all she'll get.

"What, and risk missing your pleasant company?" she says, playing with her hair like it'll distract her from those thoughts.

Silver makes a face, and sinks into his chair, hiding behind his book.

"How did your tests go?" Blue asks, momentarily serious. "Crystal said one of the girls in her AP classes had a breakdown last week."

"Fine, I suppose," Green says, which translates to: _I'm going to ace every single one of those tests_. Blue smiles at him, glad, and, for a second, thinks Green smiles back.

"It _has _been a while," Red agrees, leaning forward. "How's the internship going?"

"Also fine."

"The boss giving you trouble?" Blue quips, smirking.

"The only person Gramps gives trouble to is Bill," Green says, opening his notebook. "Which I'm fine with, considering how he lounges around Daisy all the time."

"Sister complex," Blue says, inside an unconvincing cough.

"Don't talk about your brother like that, he can hear us," Green replies flawlessly.

Silver stiffens, eyes wide and angry, and Blue has to bite down on her lip to avoid laughing. Roxanne isn't afraid to kick out students out of the library; Blue knows this from experience, and six times were enough. … Maybe. Today, at least, she wants to stick around.

Red is better at disguising his amusement. He clears his throat and looks down at Green's notebook. Doctor's handwriting looks back, a defense mechanism for people who want to cheat off his tests. This, too, Blue knows from experience, until she learned how to read it.

"What're you studying?"

"Literature," Green answers. "If you let me."

"Aw, my lit books are in my locker," Red says, wincing. "What's your assignment?"

"Probably something super hard and pointless, considering how the term's almost up," Blue says, leaning in to read better.

Green smells like the kind of cologne she likes, a barely-there freshness that she wouldn't mind getting on her clothes.

"Ugh," she says, chin dropping into her waiting hands, "definitely super hard."

"Darn it. You know, for once, just once, the AP curriculum could be the same as ours," Red says, and droops back into his math homework.

"I'm pretty sure that would defeat the purpose," Blue whispers, still skimming Green's notes. He smells so good. Why does he smell so good?

"Are you done?" Green says, turning his face just so in her direction.

A rebel lock of her hair catches on the fabric of his shirt, rolled up to his elbows because it's a hundred degrees out but Green has an image to maintain.

Blue could use it as an excuse to touch him, could roll her eyes dramatically and make fun of his fashion sense at the same time her fingers press against the crook of his arm. He probably wouldn't even catch on.

"Yikes," she says, instead, sitting straight again, that lock of hair falling, "someone's in a bad mood."

Green holds her gaze for a second longer, and then puts on his earphones and his celestial noise tracks that only Real Ultimate Nerds even know about.

_Well_, she thinks, looking down at her own neglected homework, _when in Rome, right?_

* * *

_MAY 19th (SATURDAY)_

* * *

Gold might not like volunteering himself for work, especially not on weekends, but he's always the first to offer when Ruby asks for a hand. Because he might not know jack about fashion, but he knows about girls, and he sure likes seeing how good they'll look.

"You know," he says, "you'd look better if you smiled."

Misty's frown deepens even more. She'd probably hit him, if she weren't propped up and surrounded by safety pins. Gold better leave before she takes off the dress.

"Are all the fabrics accounted for?" Ruby asks, through a mouthful of needles. He doesn't spare one glance, but then again, he never does when he works.

"Uh, yeah. Three boxes. Red, sparkly stuff."

"And the blue ones?"

"Those, too. Yeah, I'm feeling the straps, but what if – and this is just a suggestion – but what _if _there was a little bit more of thigh action going on? Slits are in this year."

"They aren't," Ruby says, and grabs Misty by the waist, motions her around. He's probably the only guy in the school who could, and isn't that unfair? "Careful with the seams, please."

"Don't worry," Misty says, all professional, the star of the swimming team and the fashion geeks (which, really, is a deadly combination), "I've got it."

"This gonna be your prom dress? I thought you were more of a blue kind of girl."

"It's for the show, idiot," Misty says, face curling again. "God, I can't wait to never see you again."

"You don't mean that," Gold says, smirking.

She probably does. They've never been friends – they're acquaintances at best – and they never will, not while Gold keeps hanging around Red. Still, looking is free, and being a swimmer has made wonders for Misty's body.

"Alright," Ruby says, leaning back to watch. It must look good enough, because he smiles and sighs like he's a stoner watching a sunset.

"Yep," Gold says, standing up too and grabbing his skateboard, "that's my cue."

Misty watches him leave with an unpleasant expression, arrested by the dress. Gold winks at her, planning on avoiding her for at least a week, waves goodbye at Ruby, and then he's off to the football field, hoping to catch Sapphire before she starts her lacrosse practice.

She's already suited up, but she takes off her mouthguard, which means she's got a couple of minutes to spare.

"'Sup, dude," she says, grinning. Then her eyes narrow, and her expression sours, and what _is _it with him today that he only gets these kinds of faces? "You got sequins in y'a hair."

Gold should make a joke about how Sapphire doesn't know decent vocabulary, but she knows how the name of the sparkly stuff that goes on Ruby's dresses.

"Uh, yeah, I helped out Ruby bring in some stuff. Anyway," he says, running a hand across his apparently sequined hair, "we still on for practice tomorrow?"

Sapphire glares, but then rolls back her shoulders and nods.

"Yeah, 'course! Pearl's gonna bail early, though. Somethin' about his dad coming to visit. Oh, also, d'you want me to bring my amp, or is yours already fixed?"

"Nah, still busted. Bring it."

Sapphire nods, glancing at her teammates. They're crowding around the coach, and he leans against the metal fence, winking at the ones who look at him. Two girls giggle, and he grins wider, because that's how it's supposed to be. Finally, some common sense!

Sapphire elbows him, frowning, and he blinks.

"Hey, stop distracting my team, we gotta—"

"I know, big game coming up. Next Saturday, right? Might swing by to cheer you on."

"If you're just gonna make kissy faces at my teammates," she says, cringing, "then I'd rather y'a didn't."

Gold laughs, and offers the palms of his hands.

"Fine, jeez. I'll behave. Can't blame a guy for trying, though."

Now Sapphire's frowning in confusion, twisting her stick in her hands.

"Trying for what? I thought you were gonna go with Crys—"

"Wow!" Gold exclaims, looking at his naked wrist. "Listen, I've gotta go, man. I'm late for my excuse for leaving."

Sapphire is still frowning, but she's into Ruby, and she knows a lost cause when she sees one. So she just shrugs, putting on her mouthguard again and rolling her eyes.

"Whahffever," she says, and goes into the fray.

Gold adjusts his backpack and slides his skate, rolls out of the grounds in style. Sunglasses on, looking good enough to turn some heads, up until he nearly runs over Silver on the mart's parking lot.

"Shit, man," Gold says, tail-scraping out of his skate. "You wanna die?"

"Piss off, dude," Silver says, shoving his phone into his pocket too quickly.

Gold smirks. Silver narrows his eyes.

"So," Gold drawls, coming near. Silver always hates it when Gold slings an arm around his shoulders, which means Gold does it whenever he can. "Hittin' up the babes?"

"You're so embarrassing," Silver hisses, shrugging off his hand.

"Need help buying your first corsage?" Gold goes on, in the sweetest tone he can. "Oh, my boy's now a man—"

"Yeah."

"To think, only yesterday—_what?"_

"Yeah," Silver repeats, turning pink. "I need to get a corsage."

It's good that Gold's feet are already on the ground, because he would've fallen off his skate in shock otherwise.

"Dude."

"I'm not asking my sister. That leaves," he cringes, "you."

"_Dude_."

Silver doesn't say anything more, which means he's not pulling Gold's leg. Gold gawks at him, horrified.

"Dude," Gold says again, and it hits him that he might very well be the only one of the group to go alone.

Which, y'know, is fine, but – it would be better if he had someone to back him up when he inevitably ends up vandalizing school property. Agatha's a master of vigilance; by himself, Gold has no chance.

"Jasmine asked me," Silver says, rubbing at his neck. "At the mall. … Now that I think about it," he adds, distracted, "I ended up not getting Blue anything for her birthday."

Gold sighs in relief, feeling dizzy. That makes it so much better. Because if Silver was brave enough to ask out a girl, a _senior_ at that, and Gold isn't—

"Well, shit, man," Gold says, clearing his mind of cyan hair. He sets a hand on his chest and makes a sad face. "That poor, poor girl." Then he makes a face, and finger-guns at Silver. "But, hey! Congrats!"

"Shut up, asshole," Silver says, starting to walk off.

Gold picks up his skate and follows, feeling half-giddy and half-betrayed.

"Honestly? You're cutting it kind of close, man. Ten days before prom? Ten! If I weren't in deep with flower industry tycoons, you'd be hard-pressed to find a good corsage."

Silver rolls his eyes but doesn't take the bait. He's probably desperate, which should be hilarious. It's just endearing, instead, so Gold goes easy on him.

"Thirteen days, actually. Can you ask your mom, or not?"

Gold laughs, but grabs his phone.

"Sure, man, I'll text her. The store probably still has some corsages. What color's her dress?"

"Pale teal."

"_Pale te_—what the fuck kind of color is that?"

"I dunno, man, it's what she told me." Silver shrugs. "I think it's like, light-blue."

_Blue, huh_, Gold thinks, and wonders what color would suit cyan. White, maybe, to go with her goody two-shoes rep. Something long and flowy, so she could finally wear heels. Good legs for it, too.

Would Crys like tulips? Is that even a flower people put on corsages?

"Hey, are you listening?" Silver asks, elbowing him hard.

"Sure, yeah," Gold lies, snapping out of it. His screen flashes, a text message there. "Mom says she'll save you one. And a matching boutonnière."

She's such a good mom. It's the third year in a row she doesn't ask if Gold wants a corsage too, and, hey, he loves her for it.

Silver gives him a look, but he doesn't ask either. They walk home together, talking about everything that isn't prom.

* * *

_MAY 20th (SUNDAY)_

* * *

"No, no," Blue says, perfectly calm, "this is fine. I'll be the only senior without a date. This is _fine_."

Yellow doesn't know what to do with her hands; poor girl is so nervous. Blue feels a little remorseful for making her go through this, but there are some things even Blue can't talk to Red about.

"W-Well, but I'm glad for Silver," Yellow finally says, setting down her paintbrush, and chooses to pat Blue on the shoulder. Her hand kind of smells like diluent. "Jasmine is such a nice girl, and – I mean, you've always wanted him to, um, talk to girls more?"

"And he didn't even _do _that! She was the one who asked him! Silver was probably trying to get me a birthday gift or whatever, and Whitney was at there too because she's _always _at Sephora, and she heard the whole thing, oh I am so mad, the _mall_, that's so meet-cute, I am _so_ jealous—"

From the other side of the stage, Keane laughs. Blue takes her shoe off and throws it at him. It lands squarely on his forehead, makes a dull noise, and Blue should be feeling better. She isn't.

"No wonder you don't have a date for prom," Chermaine says, standing squarely in front of her dumbass boyfriend.

"At least it's a choice, you talentless hack," Blue says, and Chermaine goes red in the face.

"Blue," Yellow admonishes, frowning. For someone who's won judo championships for eleven years straight, she sucks at confrontations. "Please be careful with the props. We've been working hard."

"Ugh, I know, sorry," Blue says, but glares at the idiot couple until they retreat backstage. Just in case. "It's just – I dunno. I was fine with it, I've always been fine with going with the cutest person who asks me, but this is our _senior year_. Well," she corrects, "ours, as in, the three of us."

Yellow fiddles with the buckles of her paint-flecked overalls, looking nervous again.

"Green said that he wouldn't go, though." She looks apologetic.

Blue huffs, getting up to get her shoe. Yellow wouldn't kill Blue if she lost a prop, but her disappointment most certainly would.

"We can go together!" Yellow goes on, shrugging. "I know it's not ideal, but—"

"There are legions of people who would kill to take you to prom," Blue drones, putting her shoe back on. "I'm not going to rob them of the chance to slaughter each other for your favor."

"Wow, that's … sort of bleak," Yellow says, ears pink. "Hamlet's rubbing off on you!" And here she laughs, brushing hair away from her face. "Anyway, I'm fine with going alone. It's been fun so far."

That's sweet, but it doesn't matter if she's fine with it, because Red is going to ask her. Blue knows because she helped him pick out the corsage, and the boutonnière, and she knows it's a matter of time before the two of them get together.

Unless he chickens out again, which would be a pity, because Blue would have to take the time to slap some sense back into him. And she is _really_ running out of time.

"Listen, Yellow," Blue says, picking at her nail polish, "I love you, I honestly do. But for once, just once, I want to spend my prom night slow-dancing with someone I _want_, not someone I settle for."

Yellow's smile is confused, but sympathetic.

"Well, of course. I think everyone wants that."

"Oho? Even you?" Blue asks, leaning in with a smirk.

"W-Well, I mean – that's—" Yellow's whole face is pink, now. Adorable!

"You could always ask him," Blue cuts in, unwilling to hear the same old stuttered speech. "There's no way he'd say no."

Yellow averts her gaze, the blush fading.

"I wouldn't want to be that selfish." Her voice is soft. "I'm sure Red has someone he wants to take to prom."

Blue sighs, and lays back on the hardwood floor, staring at the turned-off spotlights. _If Red doesn't ask her soon, I'm gonna drop one of those on top of him._

"You know, he's been single for years. If there really was a someone, I'm pretty sure they've died of old age by now. Ask him, Yellow."

"Mm … I'll think about it."

She won't. They both know.

Blue should probably tell her off, but who's she to judge? At least Red is _going_. It's more than what she can say about Green. He probably doesn't even know she wants him there. And even if he did, even if by some miraculous turn of events he decided to go – would he even bother to ask her?

She doesn't want to be paired off with him. She wants him to admit it, to her face, that there's something here, between them.

_Admit it,_ she told him once, back in middle school, weeks after she'd first started dating Red, _admit it, you like me. Admit it._

He didn't. He hasn't. Will he ever?

"God," Blue mutters, burying her face in her hands. "We're so stubborn."

Yellow only laughs.

* * *

_MAY 21st (MONDAY)_

* * *

Silver's halfway into his mashed potatoes when Jasmine arrives, tray in hands. Gold stares, because Jasmine is really cute, and also because he knows it's going to embarrass Silver.

Silver kicks him under the table, face reddening.

"Fu—dge maker," Gold hisses, curling into himself.

"Um, hi," Jasmine says, giving Gold a worried glance. "Sorry, is this a bad time?"

"It's fine," Silver says, without being able to look her in the eyes. Gold could laugh, if his shin weren't throbbing. "Hey."

"Hey," Jasmine says, smiling.

Gold is going to barf.

"I, um, just wanted to know if you managed to buy tickets, or if—"

"I bought them," Silver says, still blushing.

"Dude, you look like a stop sign," Gold says, laughing, and preemptively moves his legs away from Silver's feet. "Doesn't he, Jasmine? Maybe he's coming down with some kind of fever?"

"Um?" Jasmine asks, confused.

"Of course! The lovebug fever!" Gold answers.

Silver is the kind of person who could get away with murder, because Blue would help him. But Jasmine is starting to go red, too; Gold decides it's worth it. He's lived a full life, even if he'll die a virgin.

"A-Anyway," Jasmine says, and averts her gaze to her tray, "I'll see you later?"

"Sure," Silver says, through grit teeth.

Gold waits until Jasmine sits with her friends before he looks at Silver again, finding rage in those eyes of his.

"That was the most awkward thing I've ever seen in my life," Gold says, taking a bite out of something that might've once been a potato. "Also, you're welcome," he adds, before Silver tries to stab him with the cutlery. "For the tickets, I mean. The sold-out tickets for the prom you and Jasmine are going to, I mean. The tickets I had to scour an _entire city_ for, I mean—"

He bought one extra, just in case. He's not going to tell Silver.

"Fine," Silver manages, covering his face with his hand and setting down his knife with the other.

"Seriously, though? Get over it, dude," Gold says, putting his legs down again. "You have to be able to look at her for more than two seconds, if you want to kiss her."

"I don't need this from you," Silver says, and looks like he actually believes what he's saying.

Gold stops making kissy faces at him, serious for two whole seconds: "Dude, you kind of do."

"Fuck off. Don't talk to me."

Well, fine, then Gold won't. Instead, he inhales the rest of his food and heads down to the counter for a second serving, leaving Silver glaring at his plate.

"Hey," Cilan says, offering a smile. "Back so soon?"

"Yeah, you know how it is. Growing boy, and all that. Anything new since I left? When's it gonna be pizza day again, man? Can't you put in a good word with the Boss Man?"

"You know I just serve the food, right? I'm not with the catering company." The young man plops down a spoonful of mashed potatoes in Gold's plate.

"But _still_. You've got to have more pull with them than I—"

"Are you going to stand here all day, Gold? Some people have things to do."

_Great._

"… Good to see you too, Green," Gold says, over his shoulder. He moves away, though, just until that Green can reach for a plate, and offers his biggest, fakest smile. "It's been a while, man! How've you been? We've been _great_. Honestly. I barely even remember we had a keyboardist once!"

"I see you're still bitter," Green drones, watching Cilan serve him.

"Dude," Gold says, dropping the cloying tone and settling for disappointed. "We were ready to break up the Firefighters when you left for college. The least you could've done was stay until summer break."

"Unlike some people," Green says, stepping closer to get some napkins, "I have bigger concerns than a garage band."

Gold prides himself in breezing through life with levity. There's not much that can get him down, but Green just did.

"Wow," Gold says, eyebrows raising, "that was kind of a huge dick move."

Green sighs, picking up his tray.

"I didn't mean it like that," he says, looking at Gold. There are bags under his eyes, but Gold can't bring himself to feel bad for him. "But it doesn't mean it's not true. Sometimes, things just don't work out."

He steps over Gold's outstretched feet, and Gold really, really considers tripping him in front of the whole school. It would be a sight to see: the golden grandchild, sprawled on the gross cafeteria floor, mashed potatoes and canned meat up to his eyes.

But Gold just watches Green go, biting the inside of his cheek. He sits at the corner of the room, next to Red, Blue, and Yellow, back turned to the rest of the cafeteria.

Gold stomps over to Silver's side.

"I'm not hungry anymore," he says, sliding the tray against Silver's, and walks out of the cafeteria before Silver can even open his mouth.

It's chilly outside, white clouds like a blanket over the sky, and he ducks into one of his usual spots. On the inside pocket of his dad's old leather jacket, that good old paper carton slides right out, and he's lighting one up.

Green was right, and Gold knows it. And it only pisses him off even more. Because Green said, once, that band practice was fun, and there wasn't a lot in his life that _was_ fun, and he still quit. Because Green has places to go, and ambitions to fulfill. Because Green makes decisions that aren't necessarily pleasant, while Gold can't even ask out a girl to prom.

"Hey," Blue says, hands on her hips. She looks as good as ever; his teenage angst clears right up at the sight of _that_ butt in _those_ jeans.

"Wow, I can't believe you actually got up and followed me out," he says, smirking. "No," he adds, when Blue opens her mouth, "there's no need to hide it. I feel it, too—"

"Oh my _god_, shut up," Blue says, eyes rolling. But no matter how good of an actress she is, she can't hide her smile. "You're ridiculous."

She sits next to him on the window ledge, and steals his joint.

"Thought you quit," Gold says, holding it in.

"Gold, _please_. I never smoked enough to quit," Blue says, short of breath, and returns it. "We can't _all_ be stoners."

"Right," he laughs. Then he exhales, because Blue never acts without reason, and looks at her. "What's up, Blue?"

"Look, Green tries."

Gold clicks his tongue and looks away.

"I'm serious! He does. It's not his fault his family is a bunch of nerdy hotshots. He's got standards to live up to." She exhales, too, and leans back into the glass, staring at the clouds. "_But_."

"But?" he asks, eyebrows high. She's too good at piquing his interest.

"But," she repeats, smirking, "just like it's not his fault he's got standards, it's not my fault I also happen to have standards."

She really is the best.

"Yeah?"

"Prom night's coming up."

Gold hands her his joint, grinning.

"So I've heard. What's in it for you? Last I heard, you were going stag."

Blue looks at him, deadpan. She'll never admit how she feels for Green, no matter how obvious it is to the trained eye. Gold will keep trying to get it out of her, though, because her reactions are pretty amusing.

"Right, fine," he says, laughing. "What's in it for me?"

"The very same thing, dummy," she replies, and takes a drag.

"Gee, thanks, but I'm not into Green."

"That's fine. Crys has two hands, we can share," Blue says, without skipping a beat.

Gold frowns at her. Just thinking about Blue and Crys together gets the back of his neck all hot, and the pit of his stomach all sinking, but he still attempts a frown.

"… Fine," he manages, hoping his face isn't red.

"Good call," Blue says, grinning, and gives him back his joint. "Now, let's get down to business."


End file.
